MINDLESS MUSINGS

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  • THE COMMERCIALISATION OF CHRISTMAS: 2 SANTA FILMS 40 YEARS APART: Movie Musings #2

    The later film was made 40 years ago from today what’s more! That film was called “Santa Clause: The Movie” (1985). It begins with an origin story, but the drama takes place in the present – or that present – the present time the movie was released – 1985! The other film was titled “Miracle on 34th Street” (1947) and was a hypothetical story about Santa getting caught up in modern New York Christmas antics – modern as in…1947!

    Two rather different tales involving Santa Clause with one very similar theme: the commercialisation of Christmas. The next time someone complains about it like it is a present-day problem, remind them that is has been a ‘modern’ phenomenon for a very long time. This similarity is to be expected when a story places the altruistic Kris Kringle (or one of his elves) amongst the materialistic world of toy sales at Christmas time. The intriguing parallel of the two movies is the way the ‘capitalist’ characters see how they can turn this selflessness into a profitable endeavour.

    The first film (made nearly 80 years ago) is a little more cryptic. There is no overt magic, and we are never shown outright that this bloke is really St. Nick. The magic derives from the ‘spirit of Christmas’ and the kindness and wonder it inspires. The corruption of Christmas is best demonstrated in the scene where Kris is preparing for his first day as the store Santa at Macys.

    The manager instructs Kris that if any kids are unsure of what they want he should persuade them to ask for any of the products the store is overstocked with – cunning huh. Not only does he not follow the directions he lets any kid (or their parents) know where they can find toy that Macys may not have, even if it is in a competitor’s store – the audacity!

    Naturally management is horrified by this, but before they fire Kris, they discover a strange side-effect of this incredible generosity – people are proclaiming their newfound loyalty to Macys as a result of such goodwill. By showing that the wishes of the children come before profit Macys (by default) have shown that they are the store with real heart.

    The top brass is quick to pounce on this marketing marvel, and this is best summed up by this monologue:

    “Never in my entire career have I seen such a tremendous and immediate response to a merchandising policy and I’m positive Frank if we expand our policy, we’ll expand our results as well. Therefore, from now on not only will our Santa Clause continue in this manner, but I want every salesperson in this store to do precisely the same thing. If we haven’t got exactly what the customer wants we’ll send him where he can get it.  No high pressuring and forcing a customer to take something he doesn’t really want. We’ll be known as the helpful store, the friendly store, the store with a heart, the store that places public service ahead of profits and consequently we’ll make more profits than ever before.”

    And there it is. The insincere hijacking of altruism. The absurdity escalates as competitors frantically try to cash in on the phony selflessness scheme. Such a brilliant and funny way to display such an ugly symptom of capitalism. The film is considered a classic for a reason.

    Fast forward to 1985 and Ronald Reagan’s America. Only two years before Gordon Gekko would make his quintessential 80s “Greed is Good” speech in “Wall Street”. The 80s was famous for decadence and the next film came out smack bang in the middle of it. “Santa Clause: The Movie” was released in 1985 and our greedy industrialist is named B.Z. (played by John Lithgow). We first meet him at a senate enquiry where the ludicrous hazards to children posed by the toys he manufactures is on full display. B.Z. is forced to recall all his deathtraps and is obviously upset about the loss of profits.

    Santa is of course the main character, but his relationship with an inventive Elf called Patch (Dudley Moore) is a key one. Upon feeling he has let Santa down Patch heads for the big city determined to create an amazing toy that will bring joy to all the children for Christmas and thus make Santa proud of him again.

    Unfortunately, this big-hearted innovator stumbles on none other than B.Z. and being innocent decides to give his latest and greatest creation to this toy manufacturer. Their first meeting encapsulates the contrast between the ‘spirit of Christmas’ and the exploitation of it.

    Patch tells B.Z. about his plans to create a wonderful Christmas gift for all the boys and girls. B.Z. listens to the pitch with indifference. The first time we see him react is when Patch informs him that the doesn’t know much about money – B.Z. is most pleased with this. After B.Z. explains advertising to Patch we get to the part of the scene that captures our theme perfectly once more:

    B.Z.: How many workers does this…uh product require?

    Patch: Just me

    B.Z: What no payroll?

    Patch: Well, my needs are simple, a bowl of stew heavy on the dill. A cold place to sleep.

    B.Z: Wh wh what would it cost?

    Patch: Cost? Cost who?

    B.Z: The people who, who buy the toy?

    Patch: Well, nothing we’re gunna give them away free.

    (B.Z recoils in stupefied horror at the sound of this – gagging and gasping for air.)

    Patch: Oh, oh that’s fantastic! How do you turn your face so red so fast?

    B.Z: FOR FREEEEE?!?!?!

    Patch: Well, that’s how we do it at the North Pole

    B.Z: Well that’s not how we do it here in a free enterprise system!

    It is at this moment that B.Z. makes the marketing of altruism connection. The difference this time is even more scummy than the Macys ploy. B.Z. plans to use this inconceivable gesture to improve his ‘public image’ and even says “it’s not a bad investment”. The profit and loss calculations never leave his head. Yes, it is possible for B.Z., and all those like him, to be generous and take a loss. So long as there is some kind of future gain to be had – in this case it’s public relations.

    Altruism is a fundamental part of Santa and the Elves’ nature. For B.Z is a great PR tool and for the department store heads at Macys it was a ‘merchandising policy’. Either way it has a genuine ability to spread joy. For some that joy is the point, for others it is a way to make a buck.

    Naturally Santa succeeds in the end and kindness conquers greed. B.Z is punished and Patch is joyfully reunited with the man in red. “Miracle on 34th Street” doesn’t go after the heartless retail moguls, but one spiteful underling does get fired. The victory in this film goes to the ‘spirit of Christmas itself’. Both movies celebrate the defeat of not just a villain, rather the triumph of goodwill over cynicism – we can dream can’t we?

  • POTENTIAL DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY: True Stories #7

    Walking down to Tempe reserve to participate in another night of underage drinking beer and sharing stories with our mates; Wayne and I had just withdrawn our share of the beer money from the service station on the Princes Highway. We were standing on the median waiting for a part in the traffic. Our timing was terrible because as we stepped off to cross the next lanes of traffic a car came very close to hitting us and had to screech his tyres to avoid a collision.

    We made it to the other side and were laughing about the near miss. As we began walking down Station Street a car came racing down and drove up on the gutter blocking our way. A very solid Maori man leaped out of the car and was running towards us; it was clear he wasn’t planning on hugging us with joy.

    “Don’t! Don’t!” was all that could be heard from the female passenger.

    “Don’t what?” we both thought.

    The car was up on the gutter so that we could not go back up the street. Our only escape was down the street, but the Maori dude was heading to cut that route off too. A boat was parked and the tip of its trailer formed a kind of low barricade.

    Wayne was faster than me and he leapt the trailer and bolted down the street. The man jumped out in front of me and had his arms outstretched. He looked absolutely furious.

    I remember thinking why is this guy so angry? If he is upset that he nearly hit us it seems odd that he would now want to tear me limb from limb; but unfortunately that was what I was facing.

    Between his outstretched arm and the boat trailer there was precious little room for me to escape. Have you ever heard the stories about how adrenaline can help people do amazing things? Well this must have been one of those times.

    Do you believe in miracles?

    Somehow I managed to do some kind of hurdle and duck combo which propelled me just high enough to clear the boat trailer, while still keeping me low enough to avoid my potential assailant’s outstretched arm. I was through and still on my feet. I ran as fast as my skinny legs could carry me. I caught Wayne pretty fast (this all happened in a matter of seconds) and we both bolted down the road until we came to a friend’s house.

    We slipped inside and crouched behind the fence. Thankfully our pursuer had given up and gone away. Thank God!

    It was only later in the evening after downing a few beers that I found out why that guy was so angry. After our near miss, the driver had honked his horn at us and Wayne, in his infinite wisdom, thought it was a good idea to give him the finger.

    “You dickhead” was all I could say. “No wonder he was fired up”

    We were only about 16 at the time and this was a grown ass man, built like a brick shithouse, pumped up on adrenaline and fury. I shudder to think the damage he may have done had he gotten a hold of one of us.

    Another near miss to add to the list.

  • THE SEEDS OF DECAY: Rise of the Tycoons #6

    Now we enter the infancy of the monstrosity we live in today. Enjoy as we watch the ancient ancestors of the elites take their baby steps. There was no textbook available on ‘how to fuck-over your peers by creating an air of superiority’. These OGs were literally beating a new path from scratch. Running on nothing but greed, vanity and cunning. They didn’t invent greed, nor were they the first to tell lies. What they did was (this fits too perfectly!) they created synergy.

    A brand-new recipe with innumerable variations: conceit, deception, double-dealing, conniving etc. All in the name of “I deserve this!”. It didn’t happen everywhere at the same time, but it certainly was popular judging by the way we turned out.

    Was it an inevitable outcome of my surplus theory?

    Was it that at least one opportunist in every tribe was bound to figure it out eventually?

    Did it catch on by observation? One tribe member notices the behaviour in a neighbouring tribe and has a lightbulb moment. “Yeah, I’m special like those few. I am entitled to more than the others.”

    The remaining egalitarian groups somehow never had any self-serving trendsetters and were isolated enough to not witness the highs and lows of inequality – which as it turns out is usually directly proportional to where you stand in the haves and have-nots’ stakes. Whatever the reason, these precious specimens are all but extinct now.

    Their numbers never bloated, and they remained inconspicuous within the grand scheme of things. Unfortunately, the ever-expanding majority relentlessly encroached on and, either absorbed or eliminated these relics. It’s miraculous that there is any left at all today!

    I’m not saying they were utopian paradises and I’m certainly not saying they were always kind to outsiders (might be a reason for their longevity). My theory is simply that without the wicked visionaries there may have existed a time where humans, as flawed and brutal as they can be, didn’t need to be relentlessly growing in numbers and expanding their territory. A time when enough was actually enough.

    Tragically it seems to have been an all or nothing contest. As soon as one group started thriving and multiplying it was only a matter of time before they began impinging on their neighbours. The neighbouring mob had three main choices:

    • Flourish themselves and prepare to fight – either be wiped out or…
    • Join the ever-expanding tribe.
    • Flee and find a new residence.

    Like I mentioned earlier some of the strong-willed groups who knew they couldn’t win a war managed to escape and depending on how secluded the destination, were able to avoid the insatiable appetite of improvement and growth. I imagine it was a plausible strategy for millennia, but the ‘modernisers’ were always lurking on the heels of the ‘savages’. Shit! People went as far as the fucken Arctic for a bit of peace and freedom. Nomadic groups wandering through deserts just trying to be left the fuck alone! At one stage the most intrepid tribes were fortunate enough to have entire oceans between themselves and the ‘conquerors’. Not just islands too, entire continents remained hidden for ages.

    The way I understand it, Oz and NZ were the last hold outs. Pure geography I suppose. The ravenous horde were always coming. It was just so far away! What a horrible story this is. Even without delving into the atrocities and treachery the rot of humanity is startling. Colonisation is another ugly thread I plan to follow, but for now let us get back to long before then.

    Long before the dreadful rape and pillaging of the ‘uncivilized’, it was just a few self-indulgent entrepreneurial fiends who would plant the seeds for all the vile misdeeds to come. At this fledgling stage the best they could do was manoeuvre themselves into leadership positions and skim a little cream. That would change as the stockpile and populations grew.

    Again, I feel obliged to say that I did not set out expecting such a miserable path, but I must follow the chain of thought. I hope you read on.

  • POTENTIAL DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY: True Stories #6

    This one is another story from the same National Park visit I wrote about earlier; apparently we hadn’t been dare-devil enough and needed to put our lives into further jeopardy.

    Pitch black; and Corey, Jonno and I head off on a bushwalk to God only knows where. We found a path and we just followed it with our torches. What better thing to do when one is drunk and stoned in unfamiliar surroundings.

    I do not know how far we had walked, but we arrived at a small cliff face. Our options were simple: follow the path around and probably up to the top or climb the estimated one-story precipice. No prizes for guessing which one our shattered brains decided.

    Drunk and stoned we choose to accept the challenge of climbing this straight up cliff.

    We made it! I do not know how, but we did and it was a happy time. Looking down it was clear that we had taken a very real risk climbing up. It would have been dangerous sober in the light of day! Corey and I decided not to press our luck again and decided to follow the winding path back down to where we had begun; however, Jonno was not having a bar of it. He wanted to climb back down. Who were we to argue?

    By the time Corey and I reached the bottom Jonno was there looking very proud of himself. He had pushed his inebriated luck twice and succeeded. We nicknamed him “Cliff-hanger” after the Stallone film. I need here to remind the reader just how wasted we all were. It was after midnight, and we had been drinking and smoking pot for many hours prior to this adventure. Jonno had pushed his luck twice and survived!

    So having put our plastered selves in harm’s way and prevailing it was time to get back to the tents…

    After a few minutes of walking it became clear we were lost. How do three sloshed idiots figure their way out of such a predicament? They take wild guesses and walk on as if everything will be fine. It was surprising that nobody panicked (alcohol can have that effect). We just kept walking and when each split in the path arrived, we randomly chose and walked on.

    Do you believe in miracles?

    After not very long we saw the first tent of one of our camping neighbours. We were back at the campsite, and I danced and screamed with delight. Fate had one final attempt at having me seriously injured when a giant bloke came storming out of his tent ready to rip me in half for carrying on in such a manner at 2am in the morning. For some reason he did not appreciate my exuberance at surviving such a harrowing ordeal (it felt like that at the time) and seemed keen to demonstrate his dissatisfaction courtesy of his hands around my neck.

    Fortunately, my mates managed to placate my would-be assailant and we quietly walked back to our tents to partake in more marijuana and beer; and to inform our fellow campers of our exciting adventures.

    I don’t know what got a bigger laugh: Jonno’s ‘Cliff-hanger’ antics, or my near severe beating, but a good time was had by all.

  • A BRIEF DETOUR DOWN PSEUDO-PSYCHOLOGY STREET: Rise of the Tycoons #5

    Carl Jung called it our shadow. George Lucas called it the Darkside. We all have it, whether we choose to accept it or not. Anger, hatred, greed, fear…the lot. Side by side with love, kindness, courage and compassion. Those selfish scammers are one side of the same coin, or maybe one of those dice with multiple sides is a better description (polyhedral?). The cooperators, the leaders, the followers, the swindlers, the adventurers, cowards, fighters, thinkers, morons etc. we are descendants of all of them.

    Survival of the fittest is a ruthless determiner of whether the next generation makes it or not. If the competition is improving, you better be sure your offspring does the same. The successful species were the ones that adapted most effectively to the environment. Evolution is a lot more complicated than it first appears, so I will keep my foray brief. The idea that species genetically altered in the name of maximum efficiency in terms of survival and reproduction resulted in the venom, fangs, claws, poison, camouflage. However, it also shaped a species behaviour. A single lion would instinctively reject any notion of attacking a full-grown elephant. A pack would need to be extremely desperate to make the attempt – King of the Jungle title be damned! Pick your battles wisely and get to pass on your strong + smart genes.

    Regardless of the genetic evolution theory, my informal egghead theory continues; learn – improve – pass it on. Most species, humans included, concluded that working in packs was a good idea. So ‘survival of the fittest’ was not just a matter of who could genetically mutate more effectively. It was also heavily determined by how you optimized the gifts you were given and a ‘pack’ of wolves is much more formidable than a lone one.

    “If you want to go fast, go alone.

    If you want to go far, go together”

    African proverb

    Now comes the ugly all too human twist, self-interest. Shitting on your own pack for your own personal gain is a distinctly human trait. Our self-awareness and superior intellect have a distinct flaw – knowledge of our mortality and an ego that sees itself as separate from the whole.

    Scar from “The Lion King” is the perfect embodiment of this self-serving bastardry (animals- yes not even hyenas- don’t engage in this type of treachery). The pride holds power over the domain and is confident of the continuation of this situation. At this fledgling stage most of the pride is still in survival mode and remain steadfast to the group. A few probably grasped the soundness of their circumstances but understand that the solidarity of the group is crucial to its strength. A little bit of pilfering for themselves and their closest (you get we’re talking about humans now, right?) and dearest but risking the unity of the group for higher standing was a dumb idea.

    Scheming and disloyalty erode trust and will ultimately weaken the tribe from within. The self-serving nature of those extremely unique individuals was so focused on gain that the potential risks were negligible.

    Those initial successful tribes spawned the original blueprint for what would eventually be persons diagnosed as psychopathic, sociopathic or narcissistic. The difference being that those ancient avaricious assholes were taking a much bigger gamble for a much smaller prize – but of course, the game was only just beginning.

    The dawn of survival of the fittest within the tribe (a distinctly human flaw) was now a go.  –  these villains were willing to fuck the whole operation for some extra status in a tribe that was under constant threat. They too have multiplied and evolved; and walk among us today. Those genes have filtered through to us because like it or not a lot of those pricks were successful.

  • WHY THE CLIMAX OF BLOODSPORT (1988) IS FAR SUPERIOR TO THE ONE IN KICKBOXER (1989): Movie Musings #1

    ***SPOILER ALERT***

    (Only if you actually believe Van Damme loses)

    I have been trying to understand why I find Bloodsport enjoyable after uncountable rewatches, yet I have only watched Kickboxer again a few times; and that was only because someone else wanted to watch it. After watching it in the cinema I remember feeling somewhat underwhelmed and it never made the go-to list like Bloodsport.

    As an amateur screenwriter I am aware of certain rules that should be abided by if you want to drag your audience into your story and hold them there until the end. Two rules come directly to mind when thinking about the difference between these films:

    1: The more formidable your antagonist (bad guy) the better your protagonist (hero) will appear.

    2: The stakes need to be raised as the story progresses.

    Both films tick both of these boxes, and it might even be noted that Kickboxer ups the ante further than Bloodsport. I agree with this description but herein lies what I believe to be the flaw in the Kickboxer story strategy: yes, the stakes are raised, but they are all over the bloody shop!

    Bloodsport achieves this ratcheting up in an uncomplicated linear way:

    • Frank Dux (Van Damme) wants to win the Kumite to honour his shidoshi (Tanaka) – clear goal.
    • It is a no rules fighting tournament where people have been seriously injured or killed – dangerous? yeah!
    • The reigning champion (Chong Li) is a fearsome fighter who ruthlessly killed a man in the last tournament – getting scary!
    • On the 2nd day of the tournament Chong Li hospitalises Jackson and Frank vows to avenge him – anticipation rising.
    • On the final day Chong Li kills his semifinal opponent – shit just got real!
    • Going into the final fight we see Chong Li conceal a pill in his waistband as he mounts the stage – an extra dash of treachery to spice thing up.
    • Great fight and Frank overcomes Chong Li’s ferocity and dirty tricks – a glorious victory!!!

    Kickboxer follows a similar path, but goes apeshit with the increasing of the peril:

    • Eric Sloane, a heavyweight kickboxing champion from the US fights Thailand’s undefeated champion (Tong “The Tiger” Po). Kurt (Van Damme) is Eric’s brother and cornerman.
    • Tong Po utterly destroys Eric. When Kurt throws in the towel Tog Po kicks it away and continues his vicious beating. Kurt winds up paralysed from the waist down – motherfucker!
    • So, we are watching a revenge flick, great. Kurt is skilled at karate, but he needs Muay Thai Mr Miyagi to get him up to Tong Po’s level by the 3rd act of the movie – no problem, we’ll go with it. I’m still in at this point.
    • Kurt is planning to avenge his brother by fighting a devastating smashing machine – Yeah, that’s scary!
    • As Kurt wins his way to a shot at Tong Po things start to get a little complicated.
    • Tong Po’s manager (Freddy Li) arranges to have the fight fixed and Kurt is the designated loser – Tong Po just lost a little of his menacing mojo for me.
    • Tong Po beats and rapes Mylee (Kurt’s sweetheart) – Mega-motherfucker!!!
    • Freddy Li’s goons kidnap Eric in order to blackmail Kurt into losing the match – things are getting a little convoluted.
    • Kurt is instructed to go the distance with Tong Po and then lose if he wants to save his brother – this is gunna suck.
    • Did I mention they will be fighting the “ancient way”, meaning both fighters wrap their hands in rope, coat them in resin and dip them in broken glass. Sounds brutal!!! – bit of pity poor old Kurt can’t fight back.
    • Now instead of watching Kurt pit his new skills against the awesome Tong Po, we must squirm through a relentless session of a cat toying with a mouse (torturing more like it) – okay we hate Tong Po, we get it.
    • The shattered glass knuckles was a clever raising of the stakes, but with Kurt being just a punching (or is it mushing) bag I think it misses the mark.
    • Tong Po’s destructive power was demonstrated before his fight with Eric. He was kicking a concrete pillar with his shins, and the concrete was losing – Terrifying!
    • So instead of seeing if Kurt can overcome such overwhelming kick-assery, we are left watching how much punishment he can take – Is this some kind of sado-masochistic fetish shit?
    • Oh, and 1 more bit of foreshadowing. Just after Eric got obliterated by Tong Po, he and Kurt were lucky enough to be rescued by a US special forces dude (Winston Taylor). Who knew that would come in handy later on? – are you still with me?
    • While Kurt is being turned into mince meat, Winston and Kurt’s Trainer (Xian Chow) find and rescue Eric – call me simple, but I just came here to watch Van Damme struggle and then kick the bad guy’s ass.
    • When Kurt finally sees that his brother is safe, he unleashes some “how dare you cripple my brother, rape my girl, kidnap my brother, blackmail me to passively get pulverised by your concrete breaking shins, shattered glass knuckles, Muay Thai hardened elbows, knees and forehead” revenge! – I will admit if felt good at the time.
    • After being absolutely pummelled for what seemed like an eternity, Kurt shows us that Mr Miyagi – sorry Xian Chow is the greatest teacher ever! Kurt issues a flogging of epic proportions and even continues the beating as Tong Po opts for cheating and using weapons. It truly was a comeuppance to behold – I’m pretty sure we all walked out feeling triumphant.

    But it faded fast, and I had no idea why for a long time. Now…Just look at the length of the two breakdowns!

    Frank had to use his skill, wit and tenacity to overcome an extremely dangerous and malevolent opponent.

    Kurt was headed down the same path and things got really fierce when the shattered glass knuckle portion was added! The Mylee assault added to our hatred of the bad guy. Suddenly the fight was taken out of his hands. Kurt is essentially powerless. All his training, hard work and desire for retribution come to nought. The Muay Thai version of Rocky v Drago is turned into a circus of corruption and pseudo-military hijinks.

    In the quest to add a twist to a proven formula Kickboxer got lost somewhere. The stakes were raised; they were also moved to the left a little, then raised again, dropped slightly, touch your toes, spin around…. Hey, the good guys won!

    Tong Po was just as frightening as Chong Li, but the contest was ultimately taken out of his and Kurt’s hands until the last minute. What a waste.

  • POTENTIAL DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY: True Stories #5

    Kevin’s bucks night; plenty of alcohol and pot had been consumed. At some point in proceedings it was decided that Kevin would be tied to the clothes line and spray painted. After this he was tied to the headboard of a flatbed truck and taken for a joyride.

    The rest of us jumped on the truck and held on where we could; everyone except for me that is. For some insane reason I believed that gravity would be sufficient to keep me attached to the flatbed of this truck driving down the street. I was rolling across the bed and heading straight for the side when Shane grabbed a hold of my leg and held on for dear life.

    I am glad he did because I can somehow still recall my total lack of concern at that moment. The grog and pot had numbed my brain to such a degree that I seriously could not fathom the danger I was in.

    I do not know how long the drive lasted for, but I think we were pulled over by the cops. I have no idea how someone wasn’t charged, but we were back at the house soon enough returning to our brain cell destructive festivities.

    I still cringe when I remember myself just rolling across the back of that truck; so carefree. Everyone was as plastered as I was and it was a miracle that Shane somehow had enough presence of mind to grab me and save me from serious injury or possible death. I was so stupid! I had totally lost the part of a person’s brain that identifies danger and kicks in to save the self from harm. I can still recall that total lack of fear or even awareness of danger. I may as well have been rolling on the grass in a park.

    Lucky for me Shane knew better and had the strength to hold on to my wasted dumb ass.

  • MOVIE MUSINGS

    This is where my film fanatic status shines. Random rants about films I love, hate, don’t understand and anything else that pops up. I do not plan on writing reviews at this point. Although if I find that people are actually reading and commenting I would love to swap recommendations.

    For now, this will just be my half of all those cinephile conversations I will probably never have (or have had while the other persons eyes glazed over). Stuff that fascinated me about certain films or genres etc.

    I hope you find and enjoy my digital message in a bottle my fellow filmaholics.

  • POTENTIAL DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY: True Stories # 4

    Ah the bravado of youth; gung ho antics that border on a death wish. As we were driving through the National park on our way to Bundeena, where we were planning to camp the night, there were many sick of living antics to partake in or observe. A bong was liberally being passed around and everyone was taking a hit. This included the driver who had the passenger light it for him. Pulling a cone and driving at the same time, such dexterity. Beers were also being drunk; again the driver was not missing out on this. Our driver was Ron and I am certain that the same shenanigans where happening in the other car that was in front of us being driven by Mitco. We were all young and invincible.

    As we crossed the low river pass and began heading up a winding road, Mitco must have decided things were a little bit too easy for his liking so he switched off his headlights; in the middle of the night! He was now driving with only our headlights to see anything up ahead. The idea was that he had driven this road so many times he knew it off by heart. I don’t know how Mitco’s passengers reacted, but in our car it was a barrel of laughs.

    Ron, our driver, must have had a sudden rush of blood to the head because he decided to switch his headlights off also. Now we were totally in the dark! We were now driving up a winding road with a steep cliff to one side and no light other than the scant brightness of the moon. I remember shining a torch out the front windscreen trying to illuminate the way. I also remember laughing my head off; this was hilarious; for some reason the lethal seriousness of this situation never dawned on any of us. We either had total confidence in our driver’s memory and prowess or we were out and out imbeciles. Looking back I would say it was a little of both with a heavy leaning to the latter.

    Finally the headlights came back on and we were all ok; and a little bit closer to our destination. To this day I often wonder if that incident had actually happened. I am dumbstruck by the sheer insanity of it. How long the lights were out I can never be really sure; but I am positive it was at least over two minutes; which may not sound like a lot, but remember where we were. This was not a straight line down a darkened street. It was up a winding road with a deadly steep cliff to one side; and it could have been longer than two minutes for all I know.

    Two drunk and stoned drivers taking their passengers on a treacherous test of courage and expertise, on hindsight, was nothing short of suicidal stupidity and I thank whoever is in charge of things for letting us get out of that one alive.

  • THIS IS WHERE THE TROUBLE STARTS (ACCORDING TO ME): Rise of the Tycoons #4

    I’m sure that hunter-gatherers had rudimentary ways of ‘saving for a rainy day’. They certainly would have tried to find ways to survive during extended periods of scarcity. With the extra food sources resulting in surplus supply, they would have experimented and improved on their preservation skills. Thus, their ability to ‘weather the storm’ improved markedly.

    I’m sure there were a few tubbies who over-indulged, but they would have been the odd ones. The need for each person to pull their own weight (pun intended) meant that there was little tolerance for people who considered themselves superior who could just laze about consuming (I think we can all see that time is long gone).

    I have no doubt there were leaders and certain specialists who were held in high esteem, but the hierarchy was basically flat. Like the beginning of so many wonderous enterprises the vast majority was invested and enthusiastic about its success. When I say invested I mean truly devoted; like their fucken lives depended on it! It would have been a dubious optimist who believed the tribe could survive carrying dead weight.

    Of course there would have been assholes. They were human after all. There’s always a few deadshits in the bunch. The point I am making is that these guys/gals had to be extremely cunning about it. Being a drain on the collective was not just a faux pas; it was a dead-set fucking liability. Getting fired from your job here meant you’re out on your arse! Not on the street, there was no street. Off into the wilderness you go sunshine, good luck and good riddance!

    I love how I am writing this stuff in a way that seems as if I am sure about any of this.

    Anyway, everyone was pulling together like good little communists. They all toiled and shared in the rewards. As time passed and their expertise grew, so too did their reserves. This was an unforgiving environment though, and no doubt plenty perished. Nevertheless, enough didn’t and they continued to learn and pass on the knowledge (you get my spiel by now).

    There must have come a point in time when the most successful tribes became so efficient and confident in their farming prowess that the shifty ones started getting ideas regarding their effort to remuneration ratios.

    This is the point in my theory where the percentage of shirkers begins to increase relative to cooperators. Unfortunately, that is not the worst of it. This is where I imagine the exploiter becomes a natural member of the group.

    Before this time of relative comfort and plenty the best a selfish so and so could get away with was idleness. Now, with the seemingly assured stockpile it was possible to not only slack off and still eat; it was possible to grow fat from the efforts of the group.

    Just like a common problem with most hippy communes some members were a little more interested in the free-love and the drugs rather than being productive members of the collective. Except for the free-love, the drugs and the hippy thing this analogy works perfectly. Oh, and the part about growing fat. Okay I probably should have used the alternative lifestyle bit to describe shirkers.

    The leeches I am talking about now are not content with just having their fill and loafing. These bastards are scheming on how to gain control of the fruits of everyone’s labour, therefore gaining power and influence in the group.

    New tasks would be created to best deal with this new resource: preservation, storage, protection and rationing to name a few. These jobs would be performed by the very first civil servants. Duties not directly linked to producing substantial value to the group, but necessary just the same. Yes, most of those bullshit public service jobs were essential once upon a time; that’s a discussion for later.

    People occupying these positions got an inside view of the prehistoric balance sheets and the cunning ones would have quickly worked out the very first version of cooking the books. I expect most of them dipped their fingers in now and then. The really devious ones went all in and wrangled their way to holding the metaphorical keys to the storeroom.

    The OG hustlers were about to stake their claim.